Every billboard, every broadcast on the bustling streets, was repeating, “I will kill you all, and you won’t even dare to fart.”

The one who started it all was that young man who tried to fight the world for a girl—Sarah Bolton.

Surrounded by up to 100 soldiers of the Overlord Guard Corps, a young man who had never received any military training, together with a frailer girl, managed to escape from the encirclement.

Sarah Bolton’s method was very simple: he pressed a loaded revolver against the back of Grace Miller’s head and added, “Block me, and I’ll kill her.”

The commander on the scene was dumbfounded. Wasn’t this supposed to be a romantic adventure for love? How did it suddenly turn into a hostage situation? The Guard Corps’ attitude toward Grace Miller was: she’s basically their mother—if she got hurt, every person, dog, and cockroach in this city would be wiped off the face of the earth.

The commander didn’t dare take the risk and could only let them swagger away. Air and ground units were dispatched to track them, but the signal was lost in the chaotic electromagnetic environment of Electronics Street. They tried to use street surveillance footage to follow them, but not a single camera had captured their trace.

Sarah Bolton was like a master of back routes, remembering every street and every surveillance camera in the city, mapping out a perfect survival map in his mind based on risk factors. He knew exactly where the death risk was highest, which areas had been most complicated in the past three months—he had it all down.

The information that made up this survival map came from drunken chatter in taverns, constantly updated news, the patrol frequency of security vehicles… He processed everything he heard, saw, and thought of like a super terminal, analyzing and handling it all.

Every piece of information that entered his brain was permanently stored as data and numbered. When needed, he could respond in just 0.01 seconds.

If a photographic memory counts as a superpower, then Sarah Bolton was the most terrifying prodigy in history.

“We can rest here for 13.25 minutes. The owner is currently on the phone with his mistress.” Sarah Bolton pulled Grace Miller into a snack shop with a “closed” sign hanging at the door.

Grabbing a backpack from the wall, Sarah Bolton swept everything high-calorie off the shelves, along with drinking water. The top priority during a getaway was resupplying—eating was far more important than ammunition.

Grace Miller obediently sat to the side, watching Sarah Bolton prepare everything for their escape.

“Wuwu.” Grace Miller murmured softly.

“Wuwu… Can’t you say anything else? Even just a thank you?” In the midst of his busyness, Sarah Bolton suddenly stopped, just like when they first met that morning—except now, Sarah Bolton was filled with resentment and anger. “We’re being hunted by the Overlords. In this world, they’re just like their name—wherever the dark clouds gather, it’s their domain. If they want, they can kill anyone, and they’ll never be punished, because the law is written by them, damn it.”

“Wuwu.” Grace Miller looked a bit panicked—not because she was afraid of being hunted, but because of the look in Sarah Bolton’s eyes at that moment.

“Enough! I’ve had enough! I’ve ruined my whole damn life! Destroyed the happiness I spent twenty years groveling for like a dog! I should have had the prettiest room, any girl I wanted, a whole crowd of subordinates treating me with respect! I could eat real food, not this artificial dog food!” Sarah Bolton roared, “All for you! A girl who can only say ‘wuwu’! I could watch my own parents be killed without shedding a tear—if they were still alive; I could sell my best friend to my most hated enemy if my boss wanted me to. To survive in the system, I could even sell my own body, no matter if my boss was a man or a woman. But why… why can’t I sell you? I’m an idiot! I’m an idiot! I’m an idiot!”

Getting more and more agitated, Sarah Bolton pounded his own head in frustration, hating himself for choosing the wrong path at the most critical moment.

Grace Miller, frightened, rushed forward and hugged Sarah Bolton tightly, burying his face in her chest. Her body was so cold, it felt comforting—like an ice pack on your forehead when you have a fever.

“Wu… wu… wu…” Grace Miller gently stroked Sarah Bolton’s back, as if comforting a wounded animal.

“Why do I still have feelings, damn these feelings.” Sarah Bolton couldn’t help but close his eyes in Grace Miller’s embrace. His brain, running at high tension, was severely overdrawn and needed rest.

But after sleeping for only 13.25 minutes, Sarah Bolton woke up with even more precision than an alarm clock, took Grace Miller by the hand, and led her out of the now unsafe shop.

The life on the run continued. And even so, he still didn’t let go of Grace Miller’s hand. Even though he knew this road would be hard, his promise to her… could never be abandoned.

In front of the Public Security Bureau, a large number of Overlord Guard Corps members had already set up a temporary command center. Leading them was a commander with 15 years of service, who had participated in crackdowns on striking workers and the clearing of holdout residents, and possessed outstanding experience in urban anti-civilian operations.